Wasting Away (21 page)

I
grinned and said, “Okay.”

“So
anyhow, she lived with this guy for eight years. Their relationship was great,
but she wanted a little more. She wondered why he wouldn’t ask her to marry
him. So she starts leaving subtle hints. You know, bringing up the subject
every so often. Finally, he gets around to it and pops the question.”

“And?”
I asked.

“A
year later, they were divorced, couldn’t stand each other.”

“No
shit?”

She
raised her hand like she was taking an oath. “I shit you not.”

“So
what you’re saying is that people are only momentarily monogamous. Like we can
only stay faithful for a time until we get bored and want to move on, like love
is a drug that wears off after a while.”

“In
a way,” she replied. “But I think there’s more to it than that. I think it has
to do with being stuck. You start to think that it’s a prison sentence, that
you’re being punished for something. You start to believe that there’s no end
in sight.”

I
agreed, “I felt like that after a point. It was as if I would be a failure if I
left, if I just gave up and moved on. But I felt like an idiot for staying. It
was like I was telling her that I would put up with cheating in the future
because I was giving in now.”

“God,
this conversation is really depressing me. Let’s talk about something else.”

I
smiled and agreed. “So is there more to this church besides a basement?” I
asked.

“This
is where all of the food is, but there’s a chapel upstairs and an office in the
back for the Reverend.”

“Do
you think there’s anything good up there?”

She
shook her head. “I doubt it.”

I
checked the slit windows above the foundation. “You know, we’re sitting ducks
down here.”

“You
use that expression a lot,” she replied.

“Would
you prefer, ‘up shit creek without a paddle’?”

She
met my line of sight and stared at the windows. “I think you’re right. Upstairs
it is.”

Chapter 18

I
followed Mary up a narrow set of unfinished, wooden stairs. She pressed her ear
to the door and patiently listened.

“I
don’t hear anything,” she whispered.

I
pulled the pistol and held it at my side. “Maybe I should go first,” I said,
keeping my voice low.

I
slowly turned the knob and pulled the door inward.

Plain
wooden floors, old and worn, adorned with row after row of pews. A thin layer
of dust, dull against the veneer. Droplets of light rained through stained
glass, casting a prism of tilted rainbow along the worn flooring.

There
was a pulpit stationed on a platform of stairs, wrapping around the entire end
of the church. A crimson curtain hung behind, hiding the baptismal. At the
other end of the church, giant double doors towered under a sprawling balcony.
I checked to make sure they were locked and the pins were lowered at their
base, ensuring we were safe.

“Well,
the windows look high enough,” I said.

“When
we were running, this is the first place that came to mind,” she explained.
“Besides the basement, it should be pretty safe.”

“I
can’t believe the earthquake didn’t take it to the ground.”

She
tapped on one of the support beams under the balcony. “This place has been here
for many years and survived worse than that. Buildings were made better in the
old days.”

“Yeah,
but the windows are still intact,” I said.

“There
was a church in San Francisco; I think it was St. Brigid’s that had much larger
windows than these, and it made it through the 1906 earthquake. Maybe they’re
made to flex.”

“That’s
a hell of a lot of flexing,” I replied.

“Then
we’ll chalk it up to a miracle.”

“A
miracle?” I asked. “I thought we didn’t believe in those.”

“How
else could you have found me if it weren’t for miracles?” she asked.

“Oh,
don’t get all weird and mushy on me now,” I said, raising my brow.

She
laughed and sat at one of the pews. “Have you ever thought that just the act of
believing makes the world take on a certain shape? You know, it gives the
thought energy. And if enough people believe in the same thing, it gains
power.”

“There’s
a lot that we don’t know about the natural world,” I explained, “but I really
believed that my wife wouldn’t cheat on me, and here I am.”

“Maybe
you were the only one to believe it,” she said, flatly.

“Yeah,
I suppose I was.”

“I
didn’t mean it like that,” she clarified. “What I meant was that maybe the idea
didn’t have enough force behind it to gain traction. Maybe your family and
friends didn’t believe in it either. Maybe there just wasn’t enough force
behind the thought. But I think if two people believe in each other,
wholeheartedly, there’s nothing that can stand in their way. I think that other
people see it and start to believe too and it gains traction, begins to
solidify.”

“Do
you believe in me?” I asked.

“I
believe that you would do everything you could to make sure I was safe,” she
said. “I believe your intent is pure. Why else wouldn’t you try to cop a feel
when we held each other the other night?”

I
smiled. “I was being a gentleman.”

“Is
that what they’re calling it now?”

“Well,
you can’t take advantage of every situation,” I replied. “Sometimes it’s better
to let the anticipation build.”

She
nodded with a smirk. “I bet you say that to all the girls you rescue.”

“Who
rescued who?” I asked. “It seems like you did a pretty good job back there,
saving my ass.”

She
looked away. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“You
kicked that thing pretty hard,” I said.

She
looked down at her foot. “I still have the stain to prove it.”

“Very
impressive,” I said.

A
loud thud came from the back of the church. Mary jumped to her feet and stared
past the baptismal.

“What
was that?” she whispered.

I
held up my hand. “Stay here,” I said, and walked through the row between the
pews.

Past
the pulpit, a small hallway opened, darkening the farther I went. I could hear
ruffling come from the other side of a shadowy doorway at the end. I held the
gun out toward the corner of the door and turned the knob.

A
small face was at the back of the room. Fear stretched eyes laced in shadow. I
held my breath and moved forward. There was a desk at the center of the room with
a wood framed chair behind it. A soft movement struck the corner of my eye.
Another face, barely visible in the corner, moved slightly as I neared.

“What?”
I asked aloud.

The
child was tied to a chair, a gag bound across his mouth, red marks in circles
about his wrist where the rope had bitten in, rotting slowly where it had
pierced the skin.

I
nearly gagged. The children were dead, bound to wooden chairs and left to rot. I
slid the pistol into the small of my back as I heard Mary say something in the
church.

I
looked back at the other child, a small girl with light hair and streaks of
dirt washed away in streaks along her cheeks. Placid, white eyes shot through
me as if it were staring at my spine through my neck.

“
Help
us
,” I heard her say at the back of my mind.

 “Mary,”
I said, raising my voice, “I need your help in here.”

No
answer.

“Mary,”
I said again, louder this time.

I
went out into the hallway and rushed toward the chapel.

A
crease of a smile greeted me, a patchwork of beard, sparse and uneven, tilted
upward along his grizzled face, poking out over Mary’s shoulder.

“Look
what we have here,” he said, pulling Mary closer to himself, a handgun pointed
at her head. “Are you one of those heroes I used to hear about?”

I
shook my head slowly. “Just take it easy,” I said. “We’re not here to hurt
anyone.”

“Of
course not,” he chuckled. “Heroes aren’t known for common sense.”

I
looked at him, confused.

“Have
you seen what it’s like out there?” he asked his voice wispy and tired. “You
should have minded your own damn business, should have just kept moving on.”

A
furrow bent in Mary’s brow as the man gripped her tighter around her arm. She
was pleading with me, her eyes deep with fear.

“Listen,
just calm down,” I said. “We’ll just take our stuff and be on our way. You’ll
never see us again.”

He
let out a phlegm laced laugh and spit at the floor. “Awe, you’d like that,
wouldn’t you? You’d like to keep them for yourself. Well, they’re mine,” he
said like a curse. “They’re mine and I get to keep them
all
now.”

He
pushed Mary in front of himself and raised the weapon to the back of her head.

“Wait,”
I said, holding my hands up and moving forward.

He
pressed the handgun into the back of her head. “You go ahead and move a little
closer so you can feel what it’s like to have her goddamn brains splattered
against your face.”

I
backed away.

“That’s
a good boy,” he said. “Now back all the way up into that room right there.” He
motioned with the gun.

There
was the dull stomp of his boots against the floor, a slight tremor along the
boards as he followed. I reached the room and looked at the children with
regret.

“Look-y
here,” he hissed. “Seems like I got four now. Sometimes life is just lucky.”

Mary
gasped when she saw the dead children.

“What
are you going to do to us?” I asked.

“Well,
let’s see,” his voice raised a pitch. “First, I’m going to have some fun with
that little girl.” He pointed the gun at the child. “And then I’m going to have
some more with this lady here.” He pulled Mary closer about the waist. “But
first, I need to tie
you
up.”

“Come
on now,” I pleaded. “There’s no need for this.”

“Sure
there is,” he barked. “The world is my own goddamn play land, my personal
amusement park, and this is my ride.” He kissed Mary on the cheek and pushed
her away. “Sit your ass in that goddamn chair, boy.” He waived the pistol at me,
wildly.

“You
don’t have to do this,” I said. “We didn’t come here to hurt you.”

“I
don’t give a fuck what you came here for,” he spat. “All I know is that two
little squirrels got into the dragon’s den. Now I get to play.” He moved toward
me and I saw a flash as he got closer.

Mary
was on his back in an instant, digging her nails into his neck and grabbing for
the gun. He tried to pull away from her grasp, extending the weapon over his
shoulder and I rushed him. I grabbed his arm and pulled down. Two quick shots
pierced the quiet of the room. The window shattered behind the desk, flooding
the office with pale light. He swung with his free arm and I moved with his punch,
letting his fist swing past me. I stomped down hard and found his foot. He
leaned forward and I slammed my forehead into his face. I heard a pop and he
wheezed, grabbing for his nose.

I
lifted his weapon hand up over my head and used my other hand to chop at the
inner part of his elbow, bringing the pistol around under his chin. He tensed.
There was a loud bang and a warm spray crossed my face. Another shot fired and
he went limp, falling to the floor.

 A
smooth pool of dark traced out along his face, under his cheek. Vacant eyes
stared across the room, and nothing more.

“Is
he dead?” Mary asked.

I
nodded my head. “Yeah,” I replied.

I
looked to Mary. Emptiness crossed her face. A look of quiet and unanswered peace
and she sighed.

Chapter 19

I
stared at the children for some time. I couldn’t believe what my eyes were
telling me. Mary stood in silence behind me, a grave expression on her face,
tears welling in her eyes.

“Why?”
she asked, her voice quivering. “Why would someone do this? Her lips tightened,
holding back her emotions.

I
shook my head slowly.

The
girl fought against her restraints, digging the rope deeper into her chest,
opening the rot inside.

“Isn’t
there enough fucking death in the world?!” she shouted and began to sob. “I
don’t want to be here anymore,” she said. “We have to get as far away from here
as we can.”